Episode 1: Rise of the Sith
by Jay Harris
Summary: [On hiatus] TPM. AU. Pursued by the Trade Federation after fleeing Naboo, QuiGon Jinn and ObiWan Kenobi fight a desperate battle between duty and heart as they lead the Nubian contingent to Coruscant in hopes of putting an end to the Federation's blockade
1. Bounty

**1: Bounty**

"Her Majesty commands you to take her handmaiden with you."

Qui-Gon Jinn sighed as he turned to address Captain Panaka, the head of the Queen's security forces.

"No more commands from the Queen today, captain," he said. "Mos Espa is no place to send a handmaiden."

"She's curious about the planet," Panaka insisted, raising his hand to his forehead to shade his eyes from the blaze of Tatooine's twin suns. His dark skin looked even darker in the shadows.

The Jedi Master frowned, and then consented.

"Very well," he said, gesturing to the handmaiden to follow him as he turned toward to face the city. "Stay close to me."

The girl fell in step, taking two steps to compensate for Qui-Gon's long strides.

"What is your name?" Qui-Gon asked her as he turned his gaze to the desert wastes.

As far as the eye could see was sand…and beyond that, there was more sand, heated to blistering temperatures under the planet's twin suns. _What a desolate place this is,_ he thought.

"I'm Padmé," she replied.

Qui-Gon found it very difficult to keep track of which of the Queen's handmaidens was which. They all looked so much alike, and their matching wardrobes didn't help improve the situation either.

"Well Padmé Naberrié," he said, thankful that he had memorized the handmaidens' names off the ship's roster, "what does her Majesty wish to know about Tatooine? I'm sure she could learn just about everything there is to know about it using a holonet terminal on the ship."

The girl lapsed into silence before responding, a lapse that was duly noted by her Jedi companion.

"She wanted me to tell her what the people were like here," Padmé finally answered.

"Still," Qui-Gon argued, "a spaceport like Mos Espa is no place to send a girl like you. There are far too many thugs and drunks with questionable morals in these parts."

If he had been looking, Qui-Gon would have seen his female companion's cheeks flush red, but instead he had turned the other way to admonish their Gungan tag-along, Jar-Jar Binks—whom he'd taken along for fear of what Obi-Wan might to or say to him if he left him behind—that he was to stay close, and that he was not to touch anything.

As the group entered the spaceport, Qui-Gon surveyed the beings milling about, and made an assessment of the area's demographics.

"Some indigenous tribes and scavengers," he said. "Spaceports like this one are havens for those who don't wish to be found."

He was surprised by Padmé's following interjection.

"Like us."

_How true,_ he thought.

Pursued by the Trade Federation from the Queen's home planet of Naboo, Qui-Gon and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi had led the Nubian ruler and her entourage to Tatooine in hopes of evading the long arm of the Federation while they affected repairs to their ship, which had been damaged in their escape. Their goal was to journey to Coruscant to make an appeal to the Senate, hoping that the galaxy's ruling body would put an end to the blockade and trade boycott the Federation had instigated over Naboo. If they failed to convince the Senate to help them, the blue world of Naboo would most likely be turned into a desolate brown husk after Federation stripped it of all its natural resources and enslaved its citizens.

Qui-Gon led his group single file down the narrow street that led to the business district of the spaceport, scanning the signs that hung over door frames, looking for a dealer that might have what they needed. He paused by a shop with a sign printed in Huttese.

"We'll try one of the smaller dealers first," he announced.

Padmé and Jar-Jar preceded him in entering the shop; he was followed by the astromech droid he had borrowed from the royal star cruiser. They were greeted by the stench of rotten food, grease, sweat, and a sharp call of "Waddya want?" from the back corner of the dimly-lit entry room.

Presently, a blue-gray Toydarian flapped out of the shadows, suspended in the air by a pair of wings that seemed too small to support its weight.

After snatching a partly assembled droid away from Jar-Jar, Qui-Gon replied.

"I'm looking for a hyperdrive generator for a J-Type, 327 Nubian."

"A Nubian," the Toydarian purred. "We got lots o' that."

Qui-Gon nodded his approval and admonished Jar-Jar to stand still.

"My droid has a readout of what we need."

"Speaking of Nubian," the Toydarian continued, "there's been a bulletin out on the holonet...said something 'bout a cruiser blasting its way out of Thede. As the story goes, there was some nasty ex-convicts on board...believe the lot o' scumbags kidnapped the Queen or something. As I hear it, the Trade Federation is offering a hefty reward to the man who turns them in. They say this whole thing is holding up some sort of alliance between the Federation and the Naboo."

The Toydarian paused and looked him up and down.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Qui-Gon was careful not to let his emotions show as he responded.

"Not in the least."

Reaching out in the Force, Qui-Gon gauged Padmé's reaction.

Her heart rate and breathing were elevated. Her being exuded nervousness into the Force. Qui-Gon hoped she wouldn't give them away.

"Well," the Toydarian continued, seemingly nonplussed, "let me take ya guys on back."

With that, he fluttered out the back door, yelling something in Huttese. In a few moments, a boy of about nine appeared in the doorway.

"What took ya so long?"

"I was cleaning the fan switches, Watto," the boy snapped back.

"Watch the store," Watto commanded. "I got some sellin' to do."

He gestured for Qui-Gon to follow him, and disappeared in the glaring afternoon sun.

Once Qui-Gon and Watto had left, the boy lapsed into a friendly monologue.

"Are you an angel?" he asked, pushing his sand-colored hair out of his eyes. Before Padmé could answer he continued. "I listen to all the deep space pilots talk around here and they say that angels are the most beautiful creatures in the whole galaxy. They live on the moons of Iego, I think.

"I can race pods," he continued. "They're these two big engines connected to a cockpit by big cables. I'm the only human who can do it. I've been flying since I was very little – four I think. After Gardulla the Hutt lost us betting on the Podraces, I started racing myself. Little things first, derbies and stuff mostly...but now Watto has me race in the big time. If Sebulba hadn't banged up my pod in our last race, I'd be entering the Boonta Eve tournament tomorrow."

"You're a slave?" Padmé asked tentatively, her mind focused on the boy's admission of that fact, instead of happy ramblings about one of the most dangerous sports in the galaxy.

His response was fiery and full of anger.

"I'm person and my name is Anakin!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm a stranger here...I didn't know..."

Thankfully, Anakin changed the subject, his child's brain leaping from one topic to the other.

"What brought you guys to the Outer Rim anyway?"

"Our ship is damaged," she replied, sweat beading on her forehead at the mention of their reason for coming to Tatooine. "We're stranded here until we can repair it."

At that young Anakin's face lit up. "I can fix anything! Once Watto lets me off work for the day, I could come help you."

Padmé knew the last thing they needed was someone who knew that their ship was the cruiser that had escaped the Federation's blockade of Naboo.

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do until Qui-Gon buys the parts we need."

Considering the current topic of conversation closed to further discussion, Anakin turned to a new thread.

"Are you a Gungan?" he asked Jar-Jar. "They come from Naboo. Are you guys from Naboo?"

"Meesa?" Jar-Jar sought confirmation, pointing at himself.

Padmé interrupted Jar-Jar before he had a chance to possibly give them away. She was sure the Toydarian would interrogate his slave once they left, and put two and two together. The less this boy knew the better.

"I..."

"We're leaving."

Qui-Gon's sharp call cut her off. He snatched a power converter away from Jar-Jar and pulled him toward the door, his R2 unit in tow. Padmé rushed out after him, eager to be away from Anakin's probing questions.

When the group was safely out of earshot, Qui-Gon and scolded them: "What were you doing back there? Are you brainless? Thanks to the two of you that slimy Toydarian probably knows we're the fugitives the Federation is looking for."

Turning away, he added under his breath, "Taking her along was a bad idea."

Padmé slowed, walking behind the Jedi instead of beside him, trying to hide the hot tears that ran down her cheeks. She wanted to explain to him what had happened, but couldn't find the words to do so.

Qui-Gon produced a comm-link from his belt, contacting his Padawan.

After a few moments of static, Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice could be heard over the receiver's tiny speaker.

"What is it Master?"

"I've located the parts we need."

"That's good news."

"The only problem is that the dealer won't accept Republic credits as payment," Qui-Gon lamented. "What do have on board to barter with?"

"Not much," Obi Wan replied. "A few containers of supplies. Maybe the Queen's wardrobe."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I don't think that's enough Obi-Wan."

"Perhaps another solution will present itself, Master," Obi-Wan offered.

"Perhaps," was the reply. "In the meantime, we must be extra careful."

"What is it Master?" The concern in the younger Jedi's voice was palpable.

"The Federation has put a bounty on our heads, and one of the locals here might know who we are."

There was silence on the other end as Obi-Wan digested the news.

"Don't let them send any transmissions Obi-Wan; stay on the ship."

"Yes Master."

Qui-Gon abruptly cut the transmission, and strode off down the street. Padmé followed, wishing she had never spoken to the boy in Watto's shop, and hoping that the Federation wouldn't discover their whereabouts because of it.


	2. Spare Parts

**2: Spare Parts**

As far as the eye could see was sand. A wide, blank, desolate landscape surrounded the lone Nubian cruiser. Obi-Wan surveyed the barren landscape with disgust. Worlds like this one weren't meant for human habitation. Yet Tatooine supported a thriving population, a fact that Obi-Wan couldn't quite comprehend. There were so many words scattered throughout the galaxy that were far more desirable and pleasant than the desert planet.

As his eyes passed over the flat, monochromatic horizon, the communicator at his belt beeped.

"Kenobi."

"Panaka," the comm unit chirped. "We're receiving a message from home."

"I'll be right there."

The Jedi Apprentice turned for the landing ramp, shading his eyes against the bright, driving rays of the planet's twin suns. He scaled the ramp, taking long strides. He hoped the message coming through was a recording, otherwise there was the possibility the Queen might attempt to reply straightaway. Kenobi walked quickly, hurrying to the main assembly room in the heart of the Nubian cruiser.

The whirr of the door opening momentarily turned the attention of those assembled away from the holorecording that just begun to play. Quietly, he stepped to the side, focusing on the larger-than-life image of Thede's governor, Sío Bibble.

He made no preamble. "The Federation has occupied our planet. They've instituted martial law, confining our citizens to concentration camps. The death toll is catastrophic. You must contact me. Please, Majesty, you are the only one who can negotiate a way out of this blockade. You _must_ contact me!"

With of puff of static, the transmission ended. Obi-Wan advanced into the room from his position leaning against the wall.

"Send no reply," he barked. "Send no transmissions of any kind. My Master has learned that the Federation has put a bounty on our heads. No doubt Governor Bibble's message was a ploy to establish a connection trace. We can't let them find us."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Panaka asked.

"We repair the ship as fast as we can and make for Coruscant with all speed. Qui-Gon has located the parts we need—what remains for us to do is acquire the necessary capital to purchase those parts. I need to know exactly what funds we have and what supplies we might be able to barter with."

"We are left with no currency other than Galactic Credits," Queen Amidala asserted. "Will the dealer Master Jinn has located accept such payment?"

"No," Kenobi replied.

"Then we must inventory the cargo hold," Panaka interjected. "Perhaps there's something down there worth bartering with."

"Rabé," the Queen ordered, "assist Jedi Kenobi in searching our stores."

Effectively dismissed, Obi-Wan turned from the room, the handmaiden named Rabé close behind him. Obi-Wan turned down the corridor that led to the cargo hold, and was surprised when Rabé didn't follow him. He spun around, looking backward.

"This way," she beckoned, a slight smile playing about her lips.

Obi-Wan followed, trying to quell the rising redness he felt in his cheeks. Despite it not being a very large ship, Obi-Wan still found himself getting lost on occasion. He chalked his difficulty in getting around up to his dislike for space travel, or for that matter, any sort of flying in general. Trying to quell his sense of embarrassment, he fell in behind the girl, content to follow her to the cargo hold.

"You must no be much for space travel," she said.

"No," he admitted sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," Rabé continued. "I used to be just like you—totally lost my sense of direction once I set foot on a starship. But it gets better after a while."

_The trouble is, _he thought,_ is that you're younger than I am, and I've been flying longer._ _And even worst still: we're on the ground._

He sighed inwardly as he set about completing his task.

The streets of Mos Espa were hot and crowded; Qui-Gon noted that there seemed to be more beings pouring out of shops than going in. He surmised that this disparity in the two activities of the city-dwellers had to do with the dark brown clouds on the horizon. A sandstorm no doubt, which caused the people of the city to go rushing to their homes in pursuit of shelter.

"We should get in doors," he said, turning around to direct his comment at the trailing line that was his party.

Jinn did a double take. One of their number was missing. Their R2 unit trundled along happily behind him, while Padmé followed him dutifully, though he noted she looked a bit sad. Jar-Jar however, was no where to be seen. He muttered an oath under his breath. The last thing they needed was to get separated. Leave it to Jar-Jar to assure that the worst would happen.

Qui-Gon gave the dark clouds on the horizon another glance. He grimaced, for they were moving toward Mos Espa at a prodigious rate. They had to find Jar-Jar quickly. The Jedi Master peered about, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tall Gungan's orange ears flopping about above the crowd as he awkwardly moved about. After a fruitless attempt to catch sight of their lost companion, Qui-Gon reversed their course, heading back to the junk dealer's shop in hopes of encountering Jar-Jar along the way.

"Keep a weather eye for trouble," he told Padmé.

They had nearly reached the shop when Padmé spotted their missing Gungan. The creature had stopped at a food stall, intrigued by the appearance of the different cuisines. It seemed he'd become embroiled in a dispute with one of the stall's patrons, a cantankerous looking Dug. Although not large, the non-humanoid exercised a formidable amount of strength over the larger Gungan, as he pinned Jar-Jar to the ground, grasping his skinny neck in a one-handed choke hold.

"Lost something?" he asked in Huttese.

Not understanding, Jar-Jar muttered, "Meesa no wantin' trouble."

The Dug tightened his grip on Jar-Jar's neck; the orange alien gave a sharp cry of alarm. Qui-Gon decided it was time to step in.

"What seems to be that matter?" he asked in crisp, unaccented Huttese.

"That mongrel tried to steal my merchandise!" the shop's proprietor cut in. "Sebulba here was teaching him a lesson for me."

Qui-Gon pulled a pair of larger denominations of credit chits from his belt and handed them to the shopkeeper. Extricating Jar-Jar from Sebulba's grasp, he said, "I'm sure those will cover the cost of whatever damages Jar-Jar might have incurred."

_"Bantha poodoo!" _Sebulba called after them as they left.

"This is a dangerous place," Qui-Gon admonished Jar-Jar. "For your own good, stay close."

"Yeah, you don't want to try scraping orange goo out of the sand after he gets blasted."

Qui-Gon whirled around to face the boy from the junk dealer's shop. Apparently he'd been following them.

"Sebulba's a notorious fighter in these parts," the boy said, "by the looks of it, he was getting ready to finish off you're orange friend."

"The last thing meesa wantin' is crunchin'," Jar-Jar lamented as he wrung his gangly hands and hung his head.

"The boy is right though, Jar-Jar," Qui-Gon interjected, "you were heading into trouble. From now on, promise me you'll stay close."

Now that they had Jar-Jar safe and within eyesight once more, Qui-Gon turned his attention to the slave boy. The last thing they needed was someone following them to their ship to the outskirts of Mos Espa. Even worse, this boy was the slave of a dealer who already suspected them of being part of the group the Trade Federation was after. Qui-Gon cringed at the thought of what might happen if the boy managed to get back to his master with enough information to confirm that theirs was the ship that had run through the Federation's blockade of Naboo.

"I'm Anakin," the boy said as Qui-Gon ran through possible scenarios for losing the child in his head. "What's your name?"

"I'm Qui-Gon Jinn," he replied tersely.

"I like you're friend," Anakin said. "She's pretty."

Qui-Gon ignored the boy's comment, attempting to excuse them by saying: "It looks there's a sand storm coming. We should get indoors before it hits. So if you'll excuse us—"

"Do you have shelter?"

"Our ship," Qui-Gon responded, wishing little Anakin would leave them be.

"Is it far?"

"It's on the outskirts," Padmé said before Qui-Gon could cut her off.

He grimaced. The location of their ship was another detail the boy didn't need to know.

"You'll never make it in time!" Anakin exclaimed. "Sandstorms are very, very dangerous. C'mon, I'll take you to my place!"

With that, he took hold of Padmé's hand and commenced to go bounding on ahead of them, forging a path through sand that was beginning to drift in the building winds, leading the way to what Qui-Gon hoped would be safe shelter.

As he followed behind the cavorting young boy, Qui-Gon hoped beyond all hopes he was trustworthy. If not, they could end up in serious trouble, and the planet of Naboo could remain a Federation-occupied world indefinitely. The key to their success was acquiring those spare parts. If only he could find a way to raise the cash needed to purchase them…


End file.
